Consequences
by magic or manic
Summary: After Superman debuts, people begin to connect the dots between the angry dangerous man in black, and the Superhero in the primary colors.
1. Chapter 1

When Mark sees the man of steel on TV, he begins to have palpitations. His heart beats so fast, he's afraid it will explode and like a proverbial deer in the headlights, he finds himself unable to do much more than stand frozen in fear.

Because when he sees Superman, he also remembers steely fingers wrapped around his throat. He remembers his baseball bat being set on fire with only the angry glare an out of control young man. He remembers being flung aside with brutal force.

He remembers the man turning around and issuing a terrifying challenge with a manic feral grin. _Anybody else?_

It's the same face as the hero on the screen. He's sure of it. Hair a little different, eyes no longer psychotic, smile friendly - but nonetheless it has to be him. Or his twin brother. Either scenario is the kind of terrifying that makes you need a change of clothes.

The alien on his screen is smiling at something he's asked. It's friendly, beautiful and kind. It's the kind of smile that says I'm friendly, easy-going, approachable, and most of all - harmless. But Mark knows better. He remembers when the smile was bared teeth, accompanied by the gleaming of malevolent intent in the eyes. He remembers a smile gleeful in its ability to strike immediate fear.

His chiropractor has earned a fortune keeping Mark upright after that incident. Not that Mark wants to sue or anything. His insurance handles it just fine. It's just, he knows. He knows that this alien can not only do great harm – he already has.

Mark is disillusioned and afraid. He wants to know if Superman is truly good, or is he is still a psychotic freak who attacks people in bars over a girl. This is exactly the kind of thing that makes it impossible for Mark to sleep. In fact, he hasn't slept well or even had an easy moment, since that dreadful night.

So Mark decides to do the thing that makes the most sense. He'll go to the Daily Planet office and talk to Lois Lane. After all, she seems to be Superman's press handler.

A week passes and Mark stands outside the building. He is terrified at any moment the alien will swoop down, carry him to an ocean and drop him in. He's been utterly silent in regards to his plans, but who's to say that Superman didn't expect people to come forward about his violent ways after he had his big debut last week.

Spurred on by this fear, he runs up stairs because the idea of being trapped in an elevator terrifies him. People might actually hear his screams in the stairwell. The elevator is too easily hijacked. He approaches the desk of the person he desperately needs to talk to. Only she's not there. But her partner Clark Kent sits looking intently at the work in front of him. Mark knows they're partners because he did a little investigating on wikipedia.

So he goes over and nervously clears his throat, before saying "Excuse me, Mr. Kent?"

The man looks up at him and both men's eyes widen in mutual recognition.

Clark Kent is the psycho from the bar. Superman is Clark Kent.

Superman stares at the man in shock. Mark realizes it's hopeless. The alien recognizes him. He's doomed. He should have thought this one out a bit. A lifetime of regret over stupid decisions washes over him. This one will be the death of him.

Unwilling to just accept his fate, he turns and runs away. Stupid when your aggressor can move faster than a speeding bullet, but Mark is unable to just take this lying down. He won't make it easy.

Oddly, the alien doesn't follow Mark. And Mark makes it home safely.

The next evening, Clark/Superman shows up at his bar right at closing time. He comes in as the patrons are leaving and makes eye contact with Mark. Mark doesn't try to get people to stay. Why endanger others? He dug his own grave, after all. He almost feels a sense of gratitude to the alien for giving him that one extra day.

The alien hangs in the shadows, watching as people file out. After the door is locked, he walked over to Mark who is valiantly tamping down his terror. At this point, his stomach is so upset; he's trying hard not to throw up. Mark feels that the least he can do for himself is face his fate with dignity. No point in giving the alien the satisfaction of gibbering in terror. But it's hard. He's seen the burn vision up close. He was holding that burning bat. Those steely fingers were wrapped around _his_ throat. Those powerful arms had flung _him _into furniture.

The alien looks at him, and Mark can't help it. He flinches back a little, and then curses himself silently. _Be a man._

He has no idea if he should look back into those eyes. Would that be a challenge? Certainly the last time he was face to face with the man, it would have been. So he tries to look at him from an angle, so as not to seem as if he's issuing some kind of alpha challenge.

The alien's eyes are not psychotic, and no feral grin graces his face. His movements aren't menacing and assured. Rather, the man – the alien, actually, looks nervous, awkward and embarrassed. It almost appears as if he feels remorse.

"It was me," Superman/Clark says to him in a voice that is calm and resolute.

Mark takes in a deep breath, wondering what's going to happen next.

He nods, and then mumbles to the floor. "I… I thought so."

"I really don't have any excuse for my behavior that night," Superman says.

He lets out a hard breath.

"What are you going to do? If you're going to kill me, I beg of you to make it quick and painless."

"No – no," Superman seems to be appalled by the suggestion. "I came here to tell you that I'm sorry. I promise you, I'm not dangerous anymore."

His eyes fly to the alien's. He needs to see his expression.

"Was that a stage that your people go through?"

Superman looks at him with confusion in his eyes. "A stage… "

"Like adolescence?"

"Well… that was a small part of it. The main part was a red meteor rock – I mean – red Kryptonite. It takes away my inhibitions."

Mark gasps at that. A superman with no inhibitions could destroy the world.

"But… there are many people out there with the means to take me down. Many I don't know. Those I trust have created a secret network. For the good of the world, and I'm grateful to them for that foresight."

Mark lets out a breath.

"I – haven't slept well since that day. I heard about – what had to be you – in Metropolis."

"Yes. That was me, as well."

"Red rock again?"

"Yes. And my spaceship tried to program with me with instructions on – "

"On –"

"On abandoning my humanity."

"Oh." Mark knows there's more to this, but his sense of well being cautions him not to push.

"That won't happen again. First – I destroyed the thing, after the first attempt at reprogramming me. And now, I think the Kryptonian artificial intelligence and I are on the same page about what my purpose is."

"And that is –"

"To help. To help and… not… uh –"

"Take over?"

"Uh. Yeah."

Mark looks at the superhero intently. "Maybe I'll finally get good nights sleep."

The man smiles back at his tentative one and reaches out a hand to shake. For the first time, Mark sees a man instead of an alien. He takes the extended hand, and tries to keep back his fear as he shakes hands with a man who has been haunting his nightmares for the last few years.

"If you're ever in danger or trouble, call me. Just call. Or call me at the daily planet. I can't make up for what I did, but moving forward, I want you to know that I'm here to help."

Mark smiles and nods.

"You might want to go visit your old haunts in Metropolis," Mark gently urges. "If they recognize you –"

". You're right. Okay. I'll do that."

"Good luck with that," he says with heartfelt sincerity. "And do it soon. If they're anything like me, they're currently in a high state of terror."

Clark has the good graces to look dismayed. And that alone is what finally frees Mark from fear.


	2. Chapter 2

Clark decided not to delay the inevitable.

So he made his way into his old haunts. Incognito. Looking as unassuming as he could. He did this for several nights, to see if there was even an issue to deal with. If nobody had associated Kal with Superman, then he was off the hook. It wouldn't be in anyone's best interests to make the connection for them.

Naturally they all know. Naturally they all fear.

He asked Lana to help him out, as Lana had been there with him at club Atlantis that one time. He begged her to act as emissary and get as many people as he can together at Club Atlantis. He asked her to tell them that she is infused with Kryptonite and could kill him with just her presence. He begged her to be bodyguard to them all.

Nobody had the courage to say no to Kal. After all, that was always a fast path to getting hurt. Not the women. He had yet to actually hurt them physically, beyond a too-tight angry grip on their arm or wrist when they tried to get too close. But the men remember the blows when they were stupid enough to challenge him. When they were naïve enough not to realize he was inhuman.

And they all waited for him now, afraid, uneasy and with a sick sense that they had been gathered to be slaughtered. It's not like they had a choice. He could slaughter them anywhere at any time. At least if they complied with his request, he might just deliver warnings instead of death.

He walked in as if he was a normal person. Not dressed alien, but certainly not dressed as they had come to expect Kal to be dressed. Dressed to kill.

Lana preceded him there, and she gave him a sad smile of welcome as she waited at a distance. She knew she was toxic to him. The horrific irony of their relationship always hurt him deeply. All of it being his fault. For all the times he's said he won't hurt people, she is one he has hurt so many times. And yet she stood there with a smile for him. With the old love still lurking in her eyes even those days were long gone for them both.

He didn't focus too long on the first woman he ever loved. Instead, he faced the crowd and began to speak in a manner that tried to be non-threatening.

"Sorry about the cloak and dagger. I couldn't think of how to do this without creating a huge scene."

"Exactly what is 'this', Kal," asked a police woman. The one who's car he'd set on fire. The one he could have killed. Despite the fact that she should have been afraid, her heart rate and breathing did not display a state of fear.

"This is an apology," he said, his gaze directly on her, not a hint of bravado or challenge in his tone.

"I'd like more than that," she said crisply. For a moment, his heart skipped in terror. Did she expect him to do time in jail? As much as he knew he deserves it for the bank robberies and the general violence and property damage – was heat vision used deliberately actually arson – he knew that he couldn't do that. It's not a good use of his time or abilities and it would create havoc in the world. If she made a point of it, what would he do that wouldn't be considered aggressive?

He hesitates long enough for her to get impatient.

"You owe us more than an apology, Kal," she said dismissively. "You owe us an explanation. You've come on the scene as a purported friend. You can do amazing and god-like things. You can easily destroy the world. And a lot of people have fallen for it. But there are those of us who remember you unleashing those same powers on us. Many of us have suffered broken limbs because of whatever was wrong with you. If you truly want us to feel better after this meeting is over, you need to convince us why you aren't a menace to society anymore."

She waited for his answer. She was working very hard on every relaxation technique she ever learned to avoid letting him know how absolutely terrified she was. She would not give Kal that pleasure.

The others were silent. Their hearts thundered in fear as a large portion of them thought that this is going to end ugly. Kal was explosive. You could never really tell when he was going to lose it. The only comforting thing was that the woman that brought Kal's message seemed relaxed and unafraid. Many remembered her as the last girl that Kal had brought to Atlantis. Many saw him threaten her, so if she's not against him, then maybe there's hope.

Kal's face shifted between wariness, fear and shame as she spoke. All these things comforted her. He could be a major threat to the world, but if he actually cared about what she was saying, then maybe he really was someone she could see trusting.

"I do owe you that. And I recognize I owe much more. I can't deliver on all of it," he said, letting the police woman know without saying it that he won't agree to everything she could ask of him.

She nodded slightly. Letting him know his point had been made.

He began a halting explanation. An alien teenager. A destiny he didn't want, although he didn't detail it out. No need to make things worse. A foolish plan to stop the destiny. An accident that hurt people in a way that made Kal think he'd worn out his welcome with his family. A choice to run away and hide from all the pain he felt. A thoughtless choice to put on a ring that took away his inhibitions even though he knew that he would become dangerous. A reign of terror that lasted much of the summer until Lana came and told his parents where he was. A brave father bringing him home. A humbled son awed by the strength of those around him.

His revelations left silence. People cycled back to being afraid. It scared them to know that someone as powerful as he is had so many emotional problems along the way. They didn't want him to be like them, because they knew with his power, they too might be dangerous. How can a person feel safe if the local god is as erred as a man?

"So your behavior is the result of a long chain of incredibly stupid decisions," said the detective acidly. "I almost died because of an unruly alien teen rebellion?"

He flushed at that. It was so much worse than that. Jor-El had overtaken his mind with instructions that terrified him. His actions with his spaceship had been well intentioned. How else could he have stopped the path he was on?

"That's a very – distilled version of it. But some of that is true. Yes."

"What did your father tell you that prompted you to want to destroy your own ship," she asked relentlessly. "Was he trying to get you to come home?"

"Home was gone," he said. "I found that out later. They sent me here to save my life."

"Then what did he want?"

"He told me my current life was over, and that I had to move on to fulfill my destiny."

"You're not answering my question. What did he want you to do? You decided to put the entire world at danger by putting on a ring with a gem that turned you borderline psychotic. So what did he want you to do?"

Kal averted his gaze. How could he possibly tell her?

"He wanted me to conquer Earth."

His senses were suddenly overwhelmed by signs of the resurgence of fear. Fear which had diminished as he had borne under the Detective's questioning without lashing out was now rampant in the sensory output around him. Whispers, gasps, choked back fear and tears. He wants to tell her _I told you so_ but he felt it would be bad form.

"Oh," she said, all wind taken out of her sails as she looked at a man who might have – and still could have – become ruler of the world. On some level, she wondered if it's a good idea to challenge his delusion of being a benevolent friend.

"I realize the irony in what I'm saying. To avoid becoming dangerous, I went on a path that led me to being dangerous. It was, as you said, a chain of incredibly stupid decisions. I was terrified of what the ship's artificial intelligence told me. Worse yet, it could control me. It shot a beam of light at me that filled my head with imperatives. A similar beam of light had taught me an entire language and urged me to the next step, which was opening up my space ship. I felt like I was being pushed into something that was vastly spiraling out of control. The AI kept trying to punish me for disobeying, so it burned my family crest directly onto my skin."

"Your scar," asked one of the women gathered there. One of the many who had tried to get to close, but he had in the end avoided sexual contact with, unable to bear the emptiness of that kind of union.

"Yeah. He kept activating it. Somehow that and the ring were … connected. When I finally got rid of the ring, it ended up making the scar vanish. I was free to go home again. Thanks to my adoptive dad who came to metropolis to shake sense into me. He was able to do it with help from the AI, but it cost him his health."

"So you don't plan on taking over the world," his questioner asked.

"No. God. No. I've seen … that kind of thing in action. It's horrific. It's not want I want. Not ever. I have the ability and desire to help. I have no desire to rule."

"I guess she can always take you out if she has to. Maybe you could give us a demo, right?"

The detective uttered these words belligerently. The story touched her. It felt like he had been torn apart by two worlds. It felt that two families had grappled for the right to his soul, and he had lost loved ones as a result. She could tell he felt badly, but the idea that he had been sent to conquer was one she couldn't shake. She needed to know he could be hurt.

Lana's eyes were glistening with tears after she heard the entire story of what Clark had gone through. The request to hurt him was one she was loathe to comply with.

She looked at him in anguish, not knowing what to do.

"It's okay with me," he said to her. "You all have the right to know this for sure."

"I don't want to hurt you," she told him.

"Story of our lives isn't it," he said with affection in his voice and gaze. "It'll be okay. I promise you."

She moved towards him, and suddenly he began to feel the waves of pain. He buckled down and inward, trying to stop himself from cringing away from her.

Tears streamed down her face as she approached him.

He fell to the ground, and she knelt at his side, and touched his hand. He was gasping with the pain of her touch. She was torturing the man she had always loved. The others saw the physical reaction of what kryptonite exposure was doing to his hand, and then the detective yelled out a command to stop.

Lana quickly moved far away from her friend. She was crying, as she had been during the entire interchange.

The detective looked at him, finally, for the first time, believing that Kal was redeemed and no longer a threat.

She walked over to him and crouched to where he now sat, gaining back his strength and energy. She saw that his hand was clear of the dark green veininess that had gripped him when the woman had touched him.

"Are you okay," she asked him carefully. "Maybe I took this too far."

His warm blue eyes looked back at her. He nodded. "Don't feel bad," he urged her, as he could see her remorse. "You needed to see that. And I owed it to you to show you."

"Your friend is pretty extraordinary," she said back to him as they both stood up together. He helped her up as they both stood. An expression of chivalry and not chauvinism, so she allowed it.

He looked at Lana, who had calmed somewhat, and was looking back at him with bright pain-filled eyes.

"I'm lucky that way."

Clark stood his ground as people he had known approached him. He wasn't Kal anymore. They had known him. And they had not known him. But they wanted to know him, and that was a far better place than where he had started.

The healing had begun.


End file.
